


A Trip We All Regret

by VeeChaos



Series: Nor & Tic Stories [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hostage Situations, Kiddie Kingdom, Near Death Experiences, Nuka-World, Nuka-World DLC, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Post-Apocalypse, Shooting, Stress, radiation poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15649158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeeChaos/pseuds/VeeChaos
Summary: Tove 'Tic' Tidengren, a synth, and one Robert Joseph MacCready found themselves in the Kiddie Kingdom, one of the parks within Nuka-World. It so happens that a ghoul residing there doesn't want the newcomers anywhere near the place.The two get separated and then meet again in a rather dire situation...





	A Trip We All Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, this is a snippet out of a gigantic story we came to call Fallout 7 AU (because it's Fallout 3 & 4 ~~and New Vegas~~ ). 
> 
> The tl;dr is that Tove used to be a human Vault Dweller from Vault 92, met a guy named Nor in DC, stuff happened over a couple of years, they ended up getting married. Fast forward a bunch, they went to the Mojave Desert on a mission, Nor got shot in the head right in front of Tove. Tove decided to go back but the guilt and grief made him avoid his home in DC so instead, he went to the Commonwealth. On the way, he got captured by the Institue and turned into kinda botched synth - his blond hair is now fire-truck red, blood is purple, scleras are black, and irises are glowing orange like Gen 1 or 2 synths. He later met MacCready in Goodneighbor and, as Mac already knew him from 10 years prior in Little Lamplight, they decided to travel together. That was a bit of a bad, stress powered decision on Tove's part because he did not tell Mac that he's a synth. It comes out much later but that will be a completely different story that I intend to write up and publish here.
> 
> Yeah, so there we are. They ended up involved in this whole Nuka-World mess. And RJ is not doing so hot with radiation.

Tove looked around heart racing. He ran through door after door, up the stairs, down the stairs, left turn, right turn, left turn, stairs again. Some door opened to a brick wall, some corridors were an optic illusion... He was lost. He was so fucking lost! Unbelievable! The goddamn Kiddie Kingdom was like a messy maze. He didn't have the time for this shit, he needed to find- 

A weak scream of a familiar voice, followed by a string of swears, broke his frantic train of thought. 

Following the voice, he barged into a narrow, corridor-like space. It seemed like it used to function as some sort of a control room. A row of old, yellowing machines was lined up against the wall on the left and on the right a couple of broken windows overlooked the peculiar theatre stage, standing two stories lower, modelled to look like a house. Otherwise, the space was empty, only open doors on either end gaped with a void of darkness. 

Tove let out an exasperated growl. 

"Aw... Are you feeling lost?" An amused, husky voice asked from somewhere beyond the windows. "Pathetic." It added, losing all of its merriment and filling with venom. 

Tove's head snapped to the windows on the right. He turned to run in their direction, not noticing a tripwire just underneath his feet. A quiet click rang through the air and Tove only had the time to gasp inaudibly as a sound of steel doors shutting and a rapid fire of louder bangs behind him pierced the eerie silence of the theatre. 

Something, what felt like a bat swing hit him hard, throwing him forward against the wall, arms contacting painfully against the sharp, wooden edge of the windowsill. 

He screamed, sharp pain striking through his body like a lightning. It took Tove’s shocked brain a second to catch up with what happened. There were two railway spikes sticking out of his left calf and thigh, and another one in his side just above his hip. He took a shaking breath as he watched his sweater change colour to purple with a worrying speed. 

“Ah, music to my ears!” The ghoul exclaimed happily, drawing Tove’s attention back to the window he was desperately grasping onto. “You should've told me that all it took for you to get in my traps was to give you a tiny bit of... _distraction_.” A small wave of radiation burst out of the man at the words. 

Tove swallowed heavily, feeling all the blood drain from his face. Oswald the Outrageous, the glowing ghoul magician, was standing in front of the stage, just before the rows and rows of chairs that made up the auditorium. He was pressing his forearm against MacCready’s throat, holding him hostage, as he held his sword against RJ’s windpipe. The young man looked pale and faint as if the only reason he was still standing was his captor’s iron hold. His breathing was visibly laboured, and his eyelids were fluttering as he fought to keep himself conscious. 

“Oswald, please, we’re not your enemy. This can end without bloodshed.” Tove’s mind raced, he couldn't move from where he was, the doors on either side were now shut tight and jumping through the window from the height he was on would surely break his legs. His fingers tightened around his shotgun, knuckles white with the strain. He couldn't use it either, not with the ghoul using RJ like a shield. 

“You come here, attack my friends, try to steal our home, and have the gall to claim you aren't my enemy?” Oswald laughed bitterly. “You raiders are all the same.” The jagged edge of his sword pressed harder into RJ’s throat. The man tensed against the grip and whined quietly as a small stream of blood ran down to his collarbone. 

Tove’s heart was beating like a drum, blood rushing through his ears, nearly deafening him. “Oswald, please, please, don't hurt him!” Tove pleaded, voice breaking. 

“So, I see you're allowed to kill my friends, but I'm not allowed to kill yours. How interesting.” The ghoul rasped, voice full of anger, the green glow emanating brighter from his body. 

Tove dropped his gun, fingers trembling, and reached his arm through the window as if he could grab his partner from all the way up there. Even if RJ wouldn't die from the blade pressing harder and harder into his skin, he would very soon succumb to the radiation... 

“No, please! I'm sorry! I'll do anything you want, just please, let him go! I beg you! I don't want to go through this again, not again…” His throat squeezed painfully. 

“Again…?” The ghoul furrowed his brows in confusion. 

Tove’s chest ached so hard he couldn't breathe. The sound of a gunshot that ended his husband's life echoed in the back of his head so vivid and chokingly painful as if it happened seconds, not years ago. His vision got blurry with tears, water welling at the bottom of his goggles. He ripped them from his face, frustrated, and tossed them on the ground next to him. It was all his fault. Again. He shouldn't have brought RJ here, he knew it was dangerous. He was foolish, thinking he can just take on a couple of ferals and go. He was so stupid… 

And now he was going to lose another person he loved dearly... 

“Please, Oz, please…” He nearly whimpered, hot tears now streaming down his face. His fingers tightened on the edges of the wooden windowsill. Splinters prickled at his skin, but he couldn't tell, he was numb. 

“Oz...? Only Rachel called me that… Have you seen her? Is she okay? Did she find the cure? Where is she?!” The ghoul started glowing brighter with agitation, Tove's Geiger counter began clicking faintly all the way up in the control room. RJ’s grasp on the magician's forearm weakened, arm dropping down limply and head lolling to the side. 

Tove’s body shook with a restrained sob. “RJ, no, no, no, no, no!” He looked down, judging the void below the window in desperation. Maybe the drop wouldn't break his legs if he fell correctly… Maybe... 

He let out a strangled breath. _Get a grip, man!_

Tove pulled himself up onto his legs, grasping on the frame of the window. His left leg nearly gave underneath him, pain shooting up through it with a vicious bite. He clamped his teeth on his lower lip, trying to stop himself from screaming again. His head was swimming, his vision turned black and he shook his head to chase it away. 

He could do it, he was not a human, he'd be fine. And if not, who cares. His well-being was not the important part here. 

He grabbed the window frame firmly on either side, bent his knees a bit, and-- sprung forward, adding some forward momentum to his jump by pushing himself off of the frames. 

His stomach twisted as he fell. The ground approaching fast with a certain finality. Oswald watched him with green, glowing eyes wide open and mouth ajar. 

The impact bent Tove’s knees without his input, unbearable pain shot through his left leg, and he fell forward, his arms outstretched instinctively. He rolled over his right shoulder, his back smacking hard against the wooden floor, the railway spike in his side digging deeper into him. 

He came out of the roll on all fours, the momentum forcing him to stop with his hands on the floor. He whined, breath wheezing, as he grabbed his angrily aching side. His left arm, his only support, gave way and he bent over, his forehead pressing into the cold ground. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth grinding together. God, it hurt… 

With a sharp inhale he pushed himself up to a kneeling position. There was no time for being weak. His right hand left a purple print on the ancient wooden planks, a splash of colour in an otherwise dull grey surrounding. He noted absently that his fingers were turning blue under all the blood. 

Tove looked up at the glowing ghoul that was staring at him in shock. He was kneeling only a couple of feet before the magician. How appropriate. 

“Oz, let him go. He's dying.” Tove implored weakly. He grabbed a chair that was standing nearby and pulled himself up to his unsteady feet. He winced as the world started spinning before his eyes. There was a puddle of purple at his feet. He took a deep breath in an tempt to calm his racing heart, but it felt like his chest was clamped in a vice that was only getting tighter. 

“Stop right there! Don't move!” Oswald made a step back, pulling RJ with him. He seemed taken aback. He looked down at Tove’s feet and then up his body to his face, stopping briefly at his injured side to land at his yellow, glowing eyes with black scleras. “What the hell are you?!” 

“I- I'm-” Of course the ghoul has never seen something like him before, he spent the last 200 years locked up here, in Nuka-World. “I'm a synth. A machine, you could say.” He added when Oswald furrowed his brows in consternation. 

“A robot that bleeds and cries, unbelievable,” he laughed darkly. 

“And loves…” Tove added, glancing at RJ’s pale, unconscious face. Before Oswald managed to question him further he continued in a soft voice, “I was a human once too, my humanity stripped away from me by something I couldn’t control, just like you and your friends.” He made a wobbly step forward, his hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. “We’re not that different, you and I.” He slowly limped forward, making sure the ghoul was looking him in the eye. A trail of purple blood was slowly forming behind him. “But sometimes the damage is so great it cannot be reversed. This is what happened to your friends, and this is what you're doing to my friend right now.” 

“You're wrong!" Oswald exclaimed, baring his teeth. "My beloved Rachel left this place years ago to find a cure to this disease. She is going to find a way to cure them, we're going to fix this!” He took another step back, the jagged edge of his sword dug deeper into MacCready’s skin. 

“And what if she never returns...?” Tove pressed, continuing onwards with small, careful steps. 

“You know something… You- Rachel, where is she?! Talk! Now!” The radioactive glow was now visible like a halo around Oswald's body. Tove's Geiger counter was ticking frantically as the needle of the device bobbed further and further to the right. 

“Oz… she's…” Tove paused, his heart jumped into his throat. What if the ghoul would kill Mac after he heard the news? But wasn't lying even riskier...? “Rachel's dead.” He said slowly, voice as sorrowful as he could manage, and made another tentative step forward. He was now nearly a reach away from his friend and his captor. “Here, I found this…” He carefully reached into his coat pocket, stiff, numb fingers searching for the familiar square of plastic with some difficulty. He slowly pulled out a holotape and showed it to the ghoul to prove it was not a weapon. He then put the holotape into his pip-boy with trembling hands, fingers leaving smudges of blood on its surface. 

_“I think this is it.”_ A raspy voice of a female ghoul exclaimed. The magician snapped to attention, his eyes widening. She sounded sad and in pain, as she continued, _“I can't go any further. I can feel it taking me...”_ She growled loudly like a feral ghoul would. _“No, gotta keep it together a little longer. Oswald, I'm sorry. I've looked everywhere I could think, but there's no cure. What towns and outposts I could find said that we ghouls just go feral eventually, and there's nothing to be done. Maybe it was the misters. Held out…”_ she paused, a pained moan escaping her, _“...as long as I can. I know this isn't what you'd want but... I can't stand the thought of mindlessly attacking everyone around me, so I've decided to end it on my own terms.”_ Oswald’s sword dropped on the ground with a loud clang. _“I don't know why it hasn't affected you the same, but if you've still held it together... I want you to move on. Leave Nuka-World. You can still make a life out there. It's not all as bad as we thought. I love you Oz.”_

The pip-boy clicked lightly to indicate the recording ended. The weird, spacious silence in the theatre was nearly palpable. Tove watched the ghoul, body tense, as he awaited some response. 

Oswald was staring at the ground with unseeing eyes. His fingers were digging into the material of MacCready's coat, his jaw clenched, and withered lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Oswald…” Tove started, reaching out to the glowing ghoul. 

“She's gone..." He choked out. "My poor Rachel…” The bright radiation glow around him dimmed gradually and then disappeared completely as his voice filled with grief. “How could I allow her to leave my side on such a difficult journey alone? This is all my fault… I-” His grip around MacCready's still form loosened. He let the man slide down in his grasp, holding him under his arms, and laid him down carefully on the wooden floor of the theatre. 

He stared down at the pale body at his feet, arms hanging limp at his sides. 

"Oswald...?" Tove repeated and inched forward, eyes focused on the ghoul's distraught face. 

"I'm leaving." The man's voice was flat and devoid of emotion. "You can have the park."

Oswald turned around and walked slowly in the direction of the stage, his feet dragging behind him. Tove's eyes trailed after the ghoul as he reached into his pocket to pull out a round object, a smoke bomb. He threw it at his own feet. A cloud of smoke erupted around him, rendering him invisible to the only spectator in the grand theatre.

And just like that the magician, Oswald the Outrageous, was gone.

With his heart nearly standing still in his chest, Tove waited for the cloud of smoke to clear up. When it came through to him that the ghoul is indeed gone he nearly started laughing in relief. Nearly. The motionless body of his friends was still lying at his feet...

He fell to his knees next to RJ. The man looked so pale, so frail. The dark trail of dried blood leading down his neck was a stark contrast against his worryingly ashy skin. Tears started stinging at Tove's eyes again, but he chased them away by rubbing at his face with a blood-stained sleeve of his sweater, smearing streaks of purple on his face in the process.

"Mac? Mac!" He shook the younger man's shoulder gently. There was no response. He shook him again, harder this time. "RJ, come on! Wake up!" Nothing. Tove swallowed heavily, jaw clenching hard, and pressed the digits of his cyanosed fingers into RJ’s neck on the side of his windpipe.

The pulse was there, weak but definitely there. The synth exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding. A wave of relief washed over him, making his arms feel weak, and a sweet taste coat his tongue. It was going to be okay. He could fix this.

He just had to- He had to- He needed- He...

He snapped his head up with a sharp inhale. It's fallen to his chest. When did that happen? Tove shook his head, trying to drive away the fogginess in his mind, his brows knitted in concern.

He needed RadAway. RadAway. Important.

He took a deep, shaky breath and frantically pat down his coat for needles. His arms felt like lead bars, moving excruciatingly slow, even though he had to act fast. He found a plastic box with a new shining set in his breast pocket. While pulling it out he paused to look around. He’d need some sort of a- 

One of the nearby chairs caught his eye. Maybe it wasn’t the tallest IV stand, but it would have to do. He reached forward and pulled it up closer to where he was sitting. A loud screech of wood rubbing on wood echoed through the cavernous room. Tove winced, his head ringing with the sound. He grabbed the box of needles and tried to pry it open with his cold, stiff fingers.

The small box seemed to only mock him, though. The tiny metal latch on the side of the container was shut tight whatever he would do, the contents staring at him tauntingly through the translucent plastic lid. Tove groaned in frustration. The entirety of his hands was now an unpleasant pale blue colour and even bending his fingers was starting to cause issues.

He shook the box in helpless annoyance. "Please, please, please..." he murmured quietly as he tried again to move the stupid latch. He slipped one of his nails underneath the edge of it to get some leverage. And pulled.

The box flipped out of his weak grasp and landed on the floor with a loud clatter, the contents rattling inside of it. He screamed, anger boiling underneath his skin, and on impulse smacked the box with the underside of his fist. Stupid box, stupid needles, stupid hands!

The plastic of the box cover was shattered. Did he punch it that hard? He couldn't really tell. He looked at his right hand, still curled into a fist. There was a piece of clear shard sticking out of his skin. He raised his eyebrows at the sight. He couldn't feel anything. He pinched the sharp object with the fingers of his other hand and pulled it out without much thought. He then flung it behind him unceremoniously.

Well, the box was definitely open now. 

The synth carefully picked up one of the bigger needles used for IVs and put the plastic side in his mouth to hold it. He then grabbed MacCready's wrist and pulled the sleeve of his coat up, exposing the length of his arm.

Tove chewed lightly on the plastic in his mouth, deep in thought. He needed something to work as a tourniquet, so he could see his veins properly. He looked around, drumming his fingers nervously on the side of RJ's knee. His eyes finally fell on the man's hat that was lying nearby. He reached for it quickly.

Maybe too quickly. The synth groaned quietly as his head started swimming again. He gave himself a moment to regain his composure, hand clutching the edge of the abandoned garment. He closed his eyes and just let himself breathe for a moment. His fingers slipped underneath the band on the crown of the hat and pulled it off. He heard the bullets that were held by it fall on the ground with metallic clinks. That should do just fine.

He glanced at MacCready's pale features. The dark circles under his eyes made his stomach churn. He forced his eyes to get back to the task at hand as he wrapped the band tightly above his friend's elbow. He grabbed the needle from his mouth and patted the inside of Mac's arm, searching for a vein. He found one rather quickly and put the needle into it with a practised motion. He took out the sharp part, leaving the flexible plastic tube inside the skin.

Great. Fantastic. Yes. Tove ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling. Hard part done.

He turned to reach into the inner pocket of his long coat to grab the bag of RadAway he stored there but was stopped immediately. Sharp, ripping pain shot through his side, making him see white. He gasped for air but only a wheezing sound escaped his throat. 

Tove doubled over, face pressed into MacCready's chest. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't- His entire world turned into a jumble of white-hot pain. Tears leaked down the sides of his nose and disappeared in the material of the younger man's faded scarf. The Geiger counter on his wrist was ticking quietly but the sound somehow seemed so, so far away... Tove felt cold, he felt tired, he felt numb, he felt... scared. Why couldn't all of this be over finally? Why everything had to be so difficult? 

A broken sob shook his body and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

Why RJ couldn't just wake up? He needed him, he needed his help. He needed his warm smile to give him some strength. He couldn't do it on his own. Not again. This was not another near-death experience you can just walk through like it was a puddle and not an ocean raging with a storm. This was the near-death experience where you think that the ‘near’ should be removed from the title. 

So, was this how it would end? Another small story hidden away in the rubble of the world. Two skeletons huddled together in the middle of a theatre auditorium in a children's theme park. How romantic. He always felt somewhat bad for the skeletal couples he found on his journeys, cuddling or hiding together in the dark corners, hoping that the end would not happen to them. But it did. Like it did to everyone. Love will not protect you from the curses of the world.  
Tove's head fell limply to the side, his ear to MacCready’s chest, and he closed his tired eyes. He could hear the slow, faint rhythm of the young man's heartbeat. He sniffled quietly. He felt hollow, he felt lonely, he felt powerless. He was so, so tired...

_Please don't leave me, RJ... Please..._

Another wave of desperate sobbing shook his form. It was making him woozy, his side firing up with every muscle twitch.

He wondered idly if anyone would remember them if they died here. Most of the people Tove knew thought him dead anyway. Gage would surely look for them, but they meant nothing to him, just some people that died trying to complete a set of tasks for him, a necessary sacrifice for claiming the entirety of the park, two more corpses to dispose of. And Mac… 

Tove’s eyes fluttered open, breath hitched.

_Duncan._

Duncan. Mac had a son. A son that was waiting for him in DC. A son that already lost his mother...

Tove clenched his jaw hard. He was being a selfish prick. To give up so easily not only on his own but someone else’s life? When there was still time to act? He scoffed, angry with himself. What an excuse of a friend he was being. Pathetic. 

He sat up slowly, pushing himself up with a lot of effort. His heart fluttered widely as if he ran a marathon. His entire body was shaking, breath seemed like an empty gesture with no oxygen actually reaching his lungs. His eyes lost focus, a dizzy spell overcoming him. He felt like he was falling again, his stomach stirred unpleasantly. God, how long has he been laying there, lamenting his existence, losing time?

He swallowed hard when his vision returned to him. Ah. He was sitting in a puddle of his own blood. An airy, humourless chuckle escaped him. What a waste, most of the Wasteland would probably say…

Reaching into his inner pocket again, he made sure to not twist his torso this time. His fingers grasped with some difficulty on the flimsy plastic foil of a fresh bag of RadAway. He carefully unravelled a tube that came with it and hooked the bag of brownish fluid on the back lean of the chair he pulled up earlier. He connected the tube with the cannula sticking out of MacCready's skin, opened the clamp underneath the bag, and untied the makeshift tourniquet.

Tove watched the weird concoction slide slowly down the tube straight into Mac's skin. He cocked his head to the side, following the line of the young man's arm with his eyes until they landed at his face again. He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"You'll be okay. Everything's going to be fine." He said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

He laid his head on Mac’s chest again and closed his eyes. He just wanted to go to sleep like that, warmth emanating from the frame underneath him setting into his own cold body, a heartbeat growing stronger with each minute soothing his nerves, slow raises and falls of breath lulling him into calm weightlessness…

*

MacCready woke up with a start. He felt like he was ran over by a brahmin, his entire body was aching and his head felt like it was about to split open. His lips were chapped and the bitter taste in his mouth was making him nauseous. An uncomfortable pressure on his ribs was keeping him from taking a proper deep breath. He lifted his head with a groan and looked down.

What he saw was a familiar mess of Nuka-Cola red hair and his heart swelled with fondness, a bright smile growing on his face. Tic. They were okay. They made it. 

He reached out to thread his fingers through the synth’s hair and wake him up. He wanted to let his friend know he was fine. A small sting of pain in his arm made him wince and freeze mid-gesture. He gave it a quick once-over to see an IV cannula sticking out from his skin. Puzzled, he followed the cord that was snaking out of him with his eyes up to the nearby chair. A bag of RadAway was hanging there, empty. How long was he out...?

He reached with his left hand for the piece of plastic to pull it out. His body shifting caused one of Tic's arms that was nested on his chest slide to the side, landing on the ground with a wet splat.

It was deathly pale and motionless, lying in a puddle of congealed, dark purple blood...

“Tic…?” MacCready's voice echoed eerily against the emptiness of the great theatre hall.

There was no response.


End file.
